Today is Solstice. I like to picture us flinging our way through space, held in our ellipse by the flaming star at the center of our dance. In these days we are out at one of the further points of the oval, and our northern face is turned away, mostly, from the sun. We get to gaze, for these few moments a year, into darkest space, to sense the comfort of the darkness that enfolds our tiny galaxy, to really feel the presence of the stars. I feel these Solstice days as a hush or a pause, a breath, before we begin our inward whirl again, back into light, back into slightly closer proximity with the sun.
The twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany are often spoken of as high holy days, days in the Christian calendar when people reflect on the darkness and the light, on our place in the cosmos, on the past year and the coming year. I like to begin those days of deep reflection at the Solstice, to watch my dreams, to see what images and visions come to me, what words become important. Perhaps what comes is purely random flotsam from the unconscious, or perhaps it’s messages from the Spirit. Either way, what appears provides me with visual and linguistic hooks on which to hang some of my meditative practice for the coming year.
May your dreams comfort and disturb you in this season.
1. The quietly enfolding darkness
2. Dreams. Quiet. Waiting.
3. Good counsel. I am not alone.
4. Prayer. Praying. Inter-cession: being “yielded between.”
5. Looking backward. Looking forward. Looking inward and outward. Up and down. How many ways can I examine the space around me?
May we walk in the light of the stars.